


Of Tyranny

by burdenedwithgloriousgenitals



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, F/M, High School AU, M/M, Strexcorp
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-03
Updated: 2016-01-28
Packaged: 2018-03-10 09:31:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3285344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burdenedwithgloriousgenitals/pseuds/burdenedwithgloriousgenitals
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Well, however it goes, it’ll be a good opportunity to meet new people. To make new friends,” he said, before quickly looking down at his plate. Dana, happy for the distraction, grinned at him.<br/>“Friends, huh? Because I happened to spy the name of a certain new kid with perfect hair right near the top of the list. Your… eagerness… It’s not entirely about landing the role of narrator, is it Cecil?”<br/>When Cecil struggled to hide a blush, Dana knew she was on to something.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cast List

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, so this is my first fic on AO3, as well as my first Night Vale, so I hope y'all enjoy it. I hope to update once a week, but don't hold me to that (I have exams coming up). This is a school play AU, that sticks fairly closely to the progression of events in Night Vale, up until Old Oak Doors, though it isn't strictly chronological. I guess that's it... please let me know if you spot any mistakes or anything.

Carlos’ mouth was open.

A fly landed on his arm, but he didn’t notice it; he stood staring at the list pinned to the bulletin board next to the auditorium. Silently, Rachelle took him by the arm.

“Hey,” she said after a few moments, “look at that. You’re amazing.” She ran a finger over the list, underlining his name.

“No no no, I’m a scientist,” he said, shaking his head firmly. He pushed his glasses back up to the bridge of his nose, his throat uncomfortably dry.

“So am I. That doesn’t mean you can’t be an actor too.”

Carlos was about to reply that yes, in this case yes it does, when he felt the air on his other side shifting. Turning his head by 45 degrees, he saw that a woman had appeared beside him, and he involuntarily twitched. She didn’t spare him more than a cursory glance; likely, she was used to it. Anyway, she was too busy reading the cast list. Or at least, so he assumed. It was hard to tell.

Since his first day at school, he was fairly certain that this woman had been wearing the same baggy grey jumper and black skirt every time he’d seen her. But it wasn’t her scruffy, ill-fitting clothes that drew his eye. Nor the clench of her fists or the hunch of her shoulders. It was the fact that her face was almost completely obscured by her thick, greasy black hair. Really, it was a wonder that she could see her way down the corridor, let alone the notice board. Carlos cleared his throat, but the woman paid no notice, only continued to stare at the cast list. Or, again, so he assumed. He couldn’t actually see her eyes, and he wasn’t one to jump to conclusions without evidence.  He couldn’t be entirely sure that she had eyes. Statistically speaking, though, it was probable. After almost a minute and a half of silent staring at the list, she turned and walked back the way she’d come, taking the chill in the air with her.

Carlos jumped at the sound of a harsh, derisive laugh, coming from his other side. A boy that Carlos didn’t recognise was now leant up against the wall next to him.

“Check out the Faceless Old Woman.” Even all the way down the corridor, when Carlos was sure she must have been out of earshot, he thought he saw her twitch slightly at the boy’s words, but she carried on walking.

Carlos grimaced. “Why do people call her that? It doesn’t seem very-”

“Nobody knows her real name,” the boy snorted, “She’s been here for years. Longer than any high school student’s got any right to be. That’s why they call her ‘old woman’. And obviously it’s hard to tell how old she is really. I think you can guess about the ‘faceless’ part.” Carlos nodded uncomfortably. “Oh, and don’t forget, she also secretly lives in your home.”

“What?”

“Well… not _your_ home, specifically. Everybody’s homes. Apparently.”

“What?” Carlos repeated, but the boy had already walked away.

Rachelle, still occupied by the cast list, didn’t seem to have been paying attention to this exchange. She sidled up to Carlos again, nudging his arm.

“Why so glum? You got the lead, Carlos,” she said, though that wasn’t as comforting as she seemed to think it was.

“I didn’t sign up for this,” he muttered.

“Well, technically you did.”

It had been Rachelle’s idea. She was auditioning, and she somehow managed to talk him into tagging along. Neither of them had bargained on him landing the lead role.

“I’m a scientist,” he said meekly.

* * *

 

When Cecil and Dana drew up to the cast list that had been pinned up next to the cafeteria, Hiram McDaniels, a tall, broad-shouldered young man, was scanning over it. Since he pretty much blocked the view, they stood to the side patiently while he looked. After a moment, he turned to face them with a grin, and in the process, revealed the list.

“Pyrotechnics,” he drawled, in answer to a question that nobody had asked, “Finally they’re playing to my strengths.” He surveyed his audience for a second, and then he bellowed, “ _Your puny human flesh will burn_.” He smiled again then, straightening his glasses. Cecil laughed. “Good to see ya, Cecil,” said Hiram, and he gave Cecil a pat on the back as he walked away.

Now, with Hiram no longer blocking their path, Cecil and Dana moved closer to the board. Cecil’s eyes scanned the page, stopping at the very second line. There was his name, printed directly below the title of the play. Beside his name, there was a single word:

 _Narrator_.

His brow furrowed.

“… I can do that,” he muttered. It wasn’t as if he was inexperienced in that kind of thing.

It was then that he noticed that Dana hadn’t said a word since they’d reached the list. He glanced down the page again, and he found his gaze roaming lower and lower, before he finally happened across her name.

“Dana…”

“Lee Rier. I’m playing Lee Rier.”

“That’s…” he started.

“Okay. That’s okay. I mean… it’s not a massively big role, but… I think it’s… at least a speaking part.”

“That’s good,” he said, nodding.

“That’s good,” she repeated.

* * *

 

“Backstage,” said Janice, lightly punching Tamika’s arm. “I told you we’d get it.” Tamika pulled her arm back, but smiled.

“I never doubted it. But presumed knowledge is arrogance,” Tamika said patiently. Janice rolled her eyes.

“Sure. Right… Like you’ve never presumed anything.”

“I never said I wasn’t arrogant.” Tamika flashed her a grin. Rolling her eyes harder this time, Janice turned herself around, about to make for the door, but she found her path blocked. In her way was boy who was both incredibly wealthy, and seemingly half-dressed. His shirt was almost completely unbuttoned, and his jeans didn’t come down past his knees, though despite his ragged looks, Marcus Vanston was obscenely rich, and everyone knew it.

Vanston glanced up from his phone for just long enough locate his name on the cast list, give a little shrug and mutter “whatever”. He didn’t move though, so Janice wheeled herself around him. Tamika followed close behind.

* * *

 

“I’m sorry you didn’t get a bigger part,” Cecil said through a mouthful of enchilada. Dana shifted her bag onto the seat next to her, and gave a small shrug.

“It’s alright,” she said, with the smallest hint of uncertainty, because in truth, it had been a while now since she’d been able to honestly say that anything was alright. Maybe it was the time of year, or maybe things really were different, but these days the air around her felt wrong. It was like something was shifting. Too afraid to ask if anyone knew what she meant, she had to keep her mouth shut, because others surely felt it too, they _had_ to, or else what was the point? She couldn’t bank on it though. Like clockwork, she swallowed hard around a sandwich that was far too dry, and changed the subject.

They talked about school; about workloads; about projects; about Cecil’s pet cat; about music; but they still inevitably wound up talking about the play again. Cecil was struggling to contain his excitement.

“Well, however it goes, it’ll be a good opportunity to meet new people. To make new friends,” he said, before quickly looking down at his plate. Dana, happy for the distraction, grinned knowingly at him.

“Friends, huh? Because I happened to spy the name of a certain new kid with _perfect_ hair right near the top of the list. Your… eagerness… It’s not entirely about landing the role of narrator, is it Cecil?”

When Cecil struggled to hide a blush, Dana knew she was on to something.


	2. Rehearsal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while, but I decided to continue this fic after relistening to the Debate. This is pretty rushed, so please forgive/point out any mistakes.  
> Thanks for reading.

“The story follows Tyranny Braell, a teenager who escapes his abusive family and finds work in a coal mine hundreds of miles from home.” Pamela gestured at Carlos as she spoke. “He lives in cabin on-site with all his co-workers. On his first day, he is shown around by Lee Rier, and introduced to Liesl, Wolff, and the Milligan twins, Percy and Wellington.” She indicated each person with her hand. “As they’re about to call it a night, there is a small cave-in and Lee is injured.”

 _“The next day, the sinister boss figure, Dakota, comes to inspect the area and tells all the workers that they didn’t see anything, and they know no one by the name of Lee Rier._ ”

Carlos shifted on his feet, his eyes roving the gathered crowd.

_“Tyranny is unhappy with the situation, but he knows the alternative that he would have to leave and possibly return to his abusive family, so he keeps silent. Soon afterwards, he catches meddlesome journalist, September Sinclair, snooping around.”_

Carlos’ eyes found a girl with a pony tail that looked a little too tight. She’d introduced herself as his leading lady, Lauren, and her every word had been punctuated by the click of her sensible shoes. There was a sickly sweetness in the way her eyes were held open wider than Carlos would’ve thought possible, and her mouth was twisted in something that he could barely call a smile.

_“She asks him questions, and says he looks very young to be working in a coal mine, but he threatens to tell his boss if she doesn’t leave. She says that if he changes his mind, she wants to interview him about the goings-on at the mine. Thinking only of what would happen if he lost his job, he assures her that that isn’t going to happen.”_

Standing beside Lauren was a boy that looked disturbingly familiar. He was neither tall nor short, neither thin nor fat, and had crooked teeth, all on display as he too wore what Carlos would never have a called a smile, if he hadn’t known any better. When Carlos met the boy’s eyes, he felt a shiver run up his spine.

_“However, less than a month later, there is another cave-in. Percy Milligan, now a good friend of Tyranny’s, is killed. Tyranny realises that there are more important things than keeping his job. He sneaks out that night to meet September, and she tells him the reason she was so invested in the mine story. Her brother had been fifteen when he ran away to go and work in the coal mine and never returned. She had been thirteen. All of the other miners swore blind that he never worked there, but September knew better.”_

A little to the right, there was a tall boy with glasses and a mop of unruly dark brown hair, wearing a red plaid shirt that gave him the appearance of a lumberjack. Carlos had been introduced to him earlier. Hiram McDaniels. He’d been in good humour when they’d met, but now, his arms were folded tight against his chest and his cheeks were a furious red. Anger didn’t suit his face.

 _“September says that the place has become something of a local legend, with disappearances and cave-ins, and suspected corruption, cutting corners with safety regulations and taking in underage kids with nowhere else to go and paying them below minimum wage, providing substandard living conditions._ _But nobody was ever able to get proof.”_

The Faceless Old Woman – for want of a better name – was standing next to Hiram. Although Carlos couldn’t see her face, the set of her shoulders spoke volumes about how displeased she was about it. That might have had something to do with the heated debate they’d been having when Carlos entered the auditorium, though he hadn’t been able to determine what it was about.

_“Tyranny explains his own story, how he ran away from home and ended up here. He tells her about the living conditions and how two of his friends were injured in the mine. September says she needs more evidence to bring this place down, so Tyranny reluctantly agrees to help her. She tells him to be careful who he trusts. When he gets back, he gets caught sneaking in by Wellington, and is terrified that Wellington will tell Dakota, but the next day, Wellington covers for him and Tyranny realises that he can trust him.”_

The next in the circle were two very tall people in pale blue hoodies, hoods drawn up right over their faces. As far as Carlos could recall, they were going to be playing Percy and Wellington. They were a part of the school basketball team. Or at least, so he assumed. He’d seen others dressed just like them, and they seemed to spend most of their time huddling around in the basketball court. Come to think of it, he’d never actually _seen_ any of them playing basketball. He wasn’t even sure he’d ever even seen one _holding_ a basketball.

Still, it would make sense. They were very tall.

_“He takes Wellington aside, somewhere he’s sure they can’t be heard, and tells him about his plan to break into Dakota’s office to find evidence for September. Wellington, distraught about the loss of his brother, agrees to help. That night, Wellington brings Tyranny and September to a cave, where Liesl and Wolff are waiting for them. They reveal that they’ve been planning for something like this ever since Percy was killed. There’d been a lot of disagreement as to who, between Liesl and Wolff, should be their leader, but that night they induct Tyranny into their group, and he takes charge. They make a plan.”_

Having looked most of the way around the semi-circle now without anyone so much as glancing his way, Carlos was startled to find the next person he laid eyes upon staring right back. Large, shiny dark eyes bore into his, and Carlos looked down quickly.

_“A few days later, Wolff ‘accidentally’ hits Liesl in the head with a pick axe, so Dakota comes to investigate. Wellington stands guard as Tyranny and September use this distraction to break into Dakota’s office. They gather evidence, but are caught in the act by Dakota and his henchmen, who are now holding Wellington, Wolff and Liesl captive.”_

Carlos glanced up again, and found the other boy still staring at him. He looked down again, even faster than before, feeling his face flush.

_“Dakota takes the documents from September, and goes to shred them, but then the police arrive, and September reveals that she is an undercover cop. In a last ditch attempt to destroy the documents, Dakota starts a fire which consumes half the buildings on site. Dakota and his henchmen are arrested, the documents are impounded as evidence. In the final scene, Tyranny confronts September, upset that she lied to him. She tells him that everything she said about her brother had been true. She became a cop so that she could help take down corrupt institutions like this, that take advantage of vulnerable young people. September asks Tyranny what he plans to do next. He tells her that he intends to sue Dakota and the mine for damages, and use the money to start up a Private Investigator firm.”_

When assistant director Pamela Winchell finished speaking, a little murmur rose up amongst the crowd, and Carlos watched as the boy he’d been awkwardly trading eye contact with was elbowed in the ribs by the girl next to him. The boy looked away finally, and Carlos exhaled.

“Alright, I’m going to split you guys up into groups, and we’re gonna do a little in-character improvisation. Lauren, Carlos, since you guys are the leads I want you working with Cecil, your narrator. Kevin, I want you to work with Dana and Marcus.” Then she made a sweeping gesture, encompassing Rachelle and the two people in hoodies, “You three, you’re working together. Everybody else, you’re with me. We’re gonna talk about backstage.” Carlos watched Rachelle walking away with a lump in his throat.

A general hubbub rose, and Carlos found himself standing alone with Lauren, and the boy who’d been staring at him. He felt his stomach twist unpleasantly.

“Hi,” said the boy, extending a hand, “I’m Cecil.” Carlos shook his hand nervously.

After a moment of silence, he said, “Carlos.”

Cecil’s eyes positively lit up. “Neat… I mean… cute name… I mean-”

“Well, isn’t that sweet, Carlos,” interrupted Lauren, but it wasn’t a question. “But we should probably get back on topic, shouldn’t we?”

Cecil stared at her. “We were just introducing ourselves.”

“I'm not the bad guy here Cecil. I'm just trying to make sure we all reach our full productive potential. Let’s get to work.”

Carlos was trembling slightly, caught between the girl with control issues and the boy who wouldn’t stop staring. He must’ve been mocking him. I mean, he said Carlos’ name was _neat_ for Christ’s sake.

*

“This is… this is so whatever.”

“Yeah, you already said that.”

“…Whatever…”

Dana gritted her teeth. The part of her that wanted to chew out this douche for his indifference – _I mean, why did he even bother showing up if he doesn’t care_ – was at war with the part that didn’t want to cause trouble. Perhaps contrarily, the weaker part of her personality won out, as it almost always did, because it was a bigger part of her. She just didn’t want to cause any trouble. Fortunately, she didn’t have to.

“Now Marcus, that doesn’t sound like a very good work ethic to me. We should always strive to be the best version of ourselves we can possibly be, even if that means shedding fundamental parts of our own personalities. Life is a lot more fun if you put work into it. And in the end, isn’t work the most fun of all?”

As creepy as Kevin was, he kind of had a point. They weren’t going to get anything done if Marcus didn’t put down his phone for five seconds. On the other hand, whenever she made eye contact with Kevin, she really understood the strong urge to look down at your phone. He wasn’t someone you could look at for an extended period of time.

As Kevin continued to talk, Dana continued to avoid his eyes.

*

“Alright, so since you two are the youngest of the backstage crew, you’ll be mainly doing the running and such… uh… or at least… Tamika, you’ll be doing the running… for you Janice, I was thinking you could help out with costumes and catering. Maureen, and John,” Pamela cleared her throat awkwardly, “you’ll basically be doing any generally stuff that needs doing. Props, stage design, costumes… just to name a few things. And Hiram, you already know you’re on pyrotechnics, but unfortunately our budget is limited, so we can’t exactly have a huge inferno situation here. You can check out what equipment we’ve already got, ‘cause we’re not getting any more.”

She finally turned to the last member of the group, with what was maybe a touch of apprehension in her eyes.

“Faceless Old Woman,” she said, in a way that would’ve seemed uncertain from anyone else, but Pamela Winchell was never uncertain, “since you’re on lighting, there are a few bulbs and such that need to be changed and lights that need to be fixed before you can really get started… but I don’t think that’s going to be a problem for you. So now I want everyone to get a feel for what they’re supposed to be doing. Hiram, Faceless Old Woman, you can go check out your equipment. Everyone else, I want you to have a look through the props and costumes we have backstage from previous years, to see what can be recycled. I’m gonna go talk to some of the actors now.”

*

Carlos watched as the group of backstage people dispersed, tuning out whatever Lauren was talking about now, and once again found himself wishing that he hadn’t signed up for this stupid play. He had no idea why he’d been chosen. He didn’t know the first thing about acting. He was a scientist.

He observed as the Faceless Old Woman scaled a ladder, catlike and unnerving all in one, to have a look at the lighting fixtures. He watched as Hiram McDaniels started sifting through the pyrotechnics equipment, looking for something that still worked. He glanced at Maureen as she picked up what looked like a plastic pickaxe prop, but his attention was pulled away by a loud crunching sound, followed by an unholy screech, and then a sickening crack. Everyone turned to see where the stage had caved in beneath assistant director Pamela Winchell’s feet.


	3. The Candidates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter three, and I hopefully should be posting more regularly now. I'm not from the US, so although I've tried my best with the high school stuff, I might make mistakes about the way American high schools work, so if you're American and you spot anything that doesn't make sense about the way the school works, please let me know.  
> That actually applies to everything here. If it doesn't add up, please let me know. I don't have an editor, and I make a lot of mistakes.

“… so it is with regret that I inform you that assistant director Pamela Winchell has stepped down from her position, due to the injuries she sustained when she fell off the stage yesterday afternoon. Stepping down was, of course, _entirely her decision_. So our director, Mr George Hidden will be looking for a replacement to take over her duties as assistant director. All candidates should let me know so I can email Mr Hidden.”

_I could do that._ The thought crept in unbidden, and Hiram didn’t know what to make of it. He shook his head slightly.

_Well, I could_. There it was again. He frowned. Pyrotechnics were what he was good at, and he didn’t need to take on any more responsibilities. Being assistant director was a lot of work.

_If I were assistant director, I could persuade Mr Hidden give incentives, like opportunities to earn extra credit, to freshmen to encourage them to get involved with the production._

_That’s... actually a pretty good idea. Thanks brain,_ thought Hiram. Maybe running for assistant director wasn’t the worst idea in the world. _I mean, it’s not like the theatre department is overflowing with volunteers._ _And I can be very persuasive._

Still, something in Cecil’s words didn’t sit quite right with Hiram. Pamela didn’t fall _off_ the stage, she fell _through_ it. Maybe it was nothing, but something felt wrong.

_You could do it though, Hiram,_ thought Hiram. _You have the necessary skills. You could do it._

_Maybe I could,_ thought Hiram. _Maybe I could_. To anyone who happened to be looking in Hiram’s direction (and there usually was at least one person looking in his direction) internal conflict was written all over his face, although it manifested itself by making him look somewhat constipated.

*

“Fascinating,” muttered Carlos, clutching a fistful of sand. He was crouching just by the edge of the parking lot, letting the sand run over his fingers as he poured it from one hand to the other. As he always did when presented with an opportunity for science, he grabbed a sample bag from his backpack (a scientist should always keep a few sample bags in their backpack) and scooped some of the sand into it.

“Hey Carlos.” Carlos jumped so hard that he dropped the sample bag, spilling red dust onto more red dust, until there was no longer any definition before the sand he had been holding and the sand that he hadn’t.

“Cecil,” he gasped, turning to face him. “You scared me.”

“Sorry! I just… I was wondering what you were doing…”

“… Science,” said Carlos, gesturing to the now empty sample bag. “I’ve never seen sand so red before. I think it’s something to do with uranium deposits in the area, but I’d have to do some more tests to find out.” He turned back to begin filling the sample bag again.

“That’s so _interesting_ ,” said Cecil, moving to stand next to where Carlos was crouching, and watched him work. “I’m really into… science. Your hair looks really cute today.”

Carlos almost dropped the sample bag again. He felt the colour rising in his cheeks, and swallowed hard. Cecil just _had_ to be mocking him. Nobody talks like that. When Carlos dared to glance at him, he appeared to be biting his own hand.

_Probably trying to stop himself from laughing_ , Carlos thought. Still, Carlos was nothing if not polite.

“Uh… thanks,” he said, reaching into his bag for another sample bag. He’d just seen a really cool looking plant. “Oh, I’ve been meaning to ask… there’s something I was curious about, and you’ve been here a lot longer than me…”

“Yeah?” Cecil’s eyes were hopeful, but Carlos didn’t notice. He wasn’t looking at him.

“What’s the deal with the basketball court?”

“… The basketball court?”

“You know… the big no entry sign, and the fact that nobody ever seems to be playing basketball in there? I mean… I’ve seen people in there, but never playing basketball.”

“Oh, that. No basketballs are allowed in the basketball court. No people are allowed in the basketball court. Unless they’re on the basketball team of course. You can tell who’s on the basketball team because they wear pale blue hoodies that entirely obscure their faces. It’s their uniform.”

“No basketballs… in the basketball court?” asked Carlos, still snagged on the first thing Cecil had said.

Cecil grinned sheepishly, “Sorry. It sounds a lot more dramatic when you say it like that, and I kinda just love to dramatise things. Truth is, our basketball team sucks. Like really, really sucks. A while back, there were big funding cuts and the basketball team was, like, the first thing to go. Well… not the team. The team still technically exists, but they don’t have any funding at all. Like, at all. They don’t even have any basketballs. Every time they go to tournaments, they’re knocked out in the first round. They suck. So I guess it’s the same as it was before, except they don’t have training hours or anything. But since they still have access to the basketball court, and no one else does, that’s where they like to hang out.”

“That… makes the smallest amount of sense possible. It has literally just crossed the threshold between nonsensical babble and actual logical sense,” said Carlos.

“Logic is relative,” said Cecil, shrugging.

“Well…” Carlos didn’t have a rebuttal, so he looked back down at the sample bags in his hands; one empty, one full of sand. “I really ought to be getting back to this science.”

“Right… of course… I should be getting to class.”

“Right,” said Carlos, pulling a pair of tweezers out of his lab coat pocket to pull the delicate plant out of the ground.

“I’ll see you at rehearsal.” Cecil’s voice was a little downtrodden, and Carlos felt a twinge of guilt at having sent him away. It was probably for the best. Besides, he had science to get on with. Science was always his priority. He plucked the little plant from the ground, slipped it into his sample bag, and stood.

“What are you doing?” demanded a voice from above him, much less friendly than Cecil’s had been. Carlos jumped but held onto the sample bags this time.

“I- uh- science?” Carlos squeaked, turning around to face a large man in a pressed business suit and sunglasses staring down at him.

The man snatched the sample bags from his hands. “Keep the science projects to the labs, kid. And don’t let me catch you snooping around here again. Shouldn’t you be getting to class?”

Carlos stumbled over his own feet in his haste to get away.

*

“I want to run for assistant director.”

“Uh… Faceless Old Woman… I didn’t see you there,” said Cecil, startled.

“No… you wouldn’t have.” He couldn’t tell, but she was scowling at him.

“… Right.”

She regarded him for a moment from behind her hair, and then continued, “I have ideas on how to increase the funding for the play without raising ticket prices. I have a lot of ideas. You can see them on my twitter feed.”

Without another word, she turned on her heel and walked away. Cecil glanced around him, but the auditorium was empty, the only sound being the Faceless Old Woman’s disappearing footsteps. A shiver went up his spine. Doing his best to shake off the uncomfortable feeling that had settled over his stomach, he typed out an email on his phone to Mr Hidden, announcing the Faceless Old Woman’s candidacy while he waited for everyone else to arrive.

“Were you just talking to the Faceless Old Woman?” Cecil glanced up mid-email to find Hiram McDaniels staring at him, squinting slightly.

“Yeah?” he replied. “She was just telling me that she wants to run for assistant director.”

“Are you supporting her campaign?” asked Hiram, but it sounded more like a challenge.

“Um, no? I’m impartial.”

“… Good. Because you’re the voice of this play, Cecil. If you start advocating for one candidate or another, you might well affect Mr Hidden’s decision.”

“Yes, of course, you’re right. I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I care about this play Cecil. I hope you understand that. And the Faceless Old Woman? She’s… well, she’s creepy.”

“I…” Cecil began, but Hiram was already walking away.

*

“Carlos, did you turn in the analytical report yet?” asked a guy whose name Carlos had forgotten. They were in some classes together, but Carlos had classes with a lot of people, all of whom had names, and most of their names had been forgotten by Carlos.

“Yeah, I handed it in this morning.”

“What do you think the unknown compound was?”

Carlos leaned back in his chair, “Well-”

There was a sickening cracking sound, following by a crunch and a groan of pain as Carlos disappeared from view.

“Carlos!” Rachelle was at his side in an instant. “Carlos, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he wheezed, sitting up. Rachelle glanced around to see that half of the cafeteria was watching them. When she turned her attention back to Carlos, he gestured towards her with the leg of the chair he’d been sitting on, now snapped clean in half. “This doesn’t look good, though.” Upon closer inspection, she saw that the leg was absolutely crawling with termites.

“Not good at all,” she agreed.


	4. Look Around You

“Cecil! Cecil!” Cecil turned to the sounded of sensible shoes slapping against wood floors and the sound of his own name. He couldn’t suppress a grin at the sight of Carlos running towards him.

“Cecil… do you have a watch?” panted Carlos when he reached him.

“Um, sure,” said Cecil, indicating his wrist, “are you alright?”

“What time is it? None of the clocks in this building seem to work and I dropped my watch down two flights of stairs this morning.”

“Uhhhh… twelve-fifteen.”

“Alright… good… thank you,” said Carlos, still breathing hard. “I swear… I’ve checked almost all of the clocks in this building and just about half of them don’t work. Doesn’t this school have janitors?”

“Probably,” said Cecil, shrugging. Now that Carlos mentioned it, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen a janitor.

“God, this place’s funding must be awful. Everything is falling apart.”

Cecil shrugged again. “I wouldn’t know.” He was trying to keep his answers as monosyllabic as possible, to avoid embarrassing himself again. There was no way he was gonna let Carlos know about the way his heart was fluttering against his ribcage. He was probably palpitating as much as Carlos was, but without the excuse of a sudden burst of exercise.

Carlos took a deep breath. “There is a lot of weird stuff going on in this school. If you… find out about anything else weird… well… I’ll give you my cell phone number… so you can just let me know.”

Cecil could barely breathe as he handed over his phone for Carlos to input his number.

When Carlos looked up to pass Cecil’s phone back, Cecil didn’t take it immediately. He was too busy staring at Carlos with an expression that Carlos found unreadable. It would’ve been readable to anybody else, but Carlos wasn’t excellent at reading people. They made lingering eye contact as they each tried to figure out what the other was thinking.

“Oh right, I just remembered,” said Cecil, taking back his phone and breaking the moment, “I need to email Mr Hidden. Marcus Vanston just told me that he wants to be assistant director too. He… wasn’t wearing a shirt when he told me.”

Carlos let out a chuckle, and Cecil had never heard a more beautiful sound. “Is that even allowed?”

“Marcus does what he wants.” 

*

“All of this, it’s awfully exciting isn’t it? All these doorways and passages and people in suits and dark glasses! Just like being back at the mothership,” Lauren Mallard spoke in a chipper tone, with broad sweeping gestures that encompassed the ceiling, walls and floor of the classroom she’d just dragged Kevin into.

“Awfully exciting,” repeated Kevin, his tone matching hers but his face betraying no emotion whatsoever. “Absolutely.”

“Honestly it just feels so right, now that Strex is coming here, to Night Vale High School. Grades will be up by the end of the semester. So will attendance to extra-curricular activities and college acceptance. We know what we’re doing.”

“And what would that be, exactly?”

Both Kevin and Lauren whipped around to see the shape of a girl who had been in the room all along. Tamika Flynn stood, shaking the shadows from herself as she did so.

“What are you doing here, you nosy _child_?” asked Lauren, with about as much sweetness as a rattlesnake. “Can’t you see us _adults_ are trying to have a private conversation?”

“It’s not polite to listen in on other people’s conversations,” said Kevin, with about as much venom as a pit bull puppy that had been abused by a previous owner.

“In the words of the popular children’s author, Dr Seuss: ‘Adults are just obsolete children and the hell with them,’” said Tamika with a stony expression.

Lauren’s expression soured. “Come on Kev. Let’s go continue this conversation elsewhere.” She took him by the wrist and stomped from the room.

*

“Well, I’m just saying _Hiram_ has had trouble with the law. Do you really think he ought to be put in charge with _that_ on his record?”

 The rehearsal was progressing as rehearsals usually did. Carlos was still trying to muster the courage to talk his way out of his role, Cecil was flirting with him from afar, and Hiram McDaniels and the Faceless Old Woman were arguing over who would be assistant director.

“Now, now, I don’t think the problems with the _law_ should necessarily stop anyone from running. On the other hand, has anyone noticed how _creepy_ the Faceless Old Woman is? I don’t know about any of you guys but I sure wouldn’t be happy putting her in charge.”

It had been a long day for most of the people in the room. There was something in the chaos brought about by having no authority figure present, combined with everyone’s collective tiredness that had the entire cast calling it a day and skipping out early.

Hiram and the Faceless Old Woman barely noticed. They kept on arguing all the way down the corridor and out into the parking lot.

“And what _I’m_ saying is that it doesn’t matter if you’ve got people’s interests at heart. It’s about the bigger picture,” said Hiram, but the Faceless Old Woman didn’t reply. In fact, she’d slowed down her pace considerably.

Hiram couldn’t see where she was looking, but a cold prickle down his spine helped him find it anyway. There was a small cluster of people in suits and sunglasses staring at them as they passed. Hiram stared back. He imagined that the Faceless Old Woman was doing the same, but he had no way of knowing.


End file.
